Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 27
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!”
“Not by the hair on your chinny-chin-chin!”
“Guys, seriously, could we not do this right now? The delivery guy called while I was in the bath and when I ran out to try and catch him the door swung shut behind me. I’m wearing nothing but a towel and it’s not even a particularly big towel. Could you please just let me in off the street? It’s freezing out here.”
The pigs conferred with one another.
“That sounds like a lie,” said the first little pig.
“People do tend to throw in a lot of extra details when they lie,” offered the second.
“How do we know you’re not going to eat us?” asked the third.
There was a sigh from the other side of the door. “Look, your house is made of straw. If I wanted to eat you, I could knock it down just by breathing on it. But obviously that wouldn’t help me get out of the cold now, would it?”
“I dunno…” said the first pig.
“Come on, guys! What reason could I possibly have for asking you to let me in if I could just smash right through the wall like the Kool-Aid man?”
“Yeah?” said the second pig. “Well what reason could you have for coming to our house out of all the houses on Lollipop Lane? We’re not exactly on good terms, you know.”
“You think this is the first place I’ve tried? Humptey Dumptey was cracking up, the old woman who lives in the shoe just ogled my butt the whole time, and Wee Willie Winkie wouldn’t stop making dick jokes. Happy now?”
“Yeah, fair enough,” said third little pig, “come on in.” And he unlocked the door.
“Hang on,” said the first pig. “Does the wolf even wear clothes?”
“Actually, now that you mention it…”
“Oh, shit. It’s Dracula.”
“Haha!” shouted Dracula as he bounded inside. “Who’s the sucker now?”
If you’ve enjoyed this story, you can find my work from previous Flash Fiction Months collected in these books:
Click any cover to find that book in your choice of format.
Flash Fiction Month 2015, Day 13
“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the hair on my chinny-chin-chin!”
“Wait a minute,” said the Little Pig. “I think two pages have got stuck together.”
“Ah. That would explain why I’ve stopped talking in rhymes.” The Giant looked about. “And why I’m suddenly in a house made of straw.”
“Then I’ll huff!” shouted the Big Bad Wolf. “And I’ll puff! And I’ll—hang on. There’s a Billy Goat Gruff here asking for directions.”
“Yeah.” The goat propped his little hooves on the windowsill and poked his head through. “Sorry to be a bother, but are any of you guys finger puppets?”
“No,” the Little Pig, the Giant, and the Wolf answered in unison.
“Ah, bollocks. I think I belong with a different book.”